Fully Man

He lived his years as one of us,
skin reddened by sun,
hands full of splinters,
footsore with strength spun
out and worn away by work.
He knew colds and aches,
cuts and sprains, wore hunger daily
and felt wrenching heartbreaks.
Fatigue, sleepless nights, itching
and sweat were his to share
with those he joined on Earth.
Born who-knows-where,
grown into a cracking voice
then a man who angered all
who did not know him well.
A man who pressed into his call
regardless of the cost, and still
he lost his very life.
What reward, to die in pain –
to die bearing all the strife
he never caused, hearing
mocking voices calling for his death.
He who formed mankind from dust
was slain, and his mortal breath
committed his spirit to God.
Yet that damning loss
was how he claimed us:
our instrument of death, the cross,
his instrument of life.
Those hours of suffering
were when he named us
each as his, offering
us life to live abundantly.
This his greatest act of love:
While men were killing God below,
he reigned supreme above.
Extending to us freedom
as we stripped life away,
he triumphed over sin and rose,
and death is held at bay.